


Until We Get to Waterloo

by SammysGirl666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Holding, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5886967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammysGirl666/pseuds/SammysGirl666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean makes a demand of Sam and the younger man is powerless to resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until We Get to Waterloo

Sam is suspect when Dean makes him refill his Big Gulp cup with water at a gas station in Omaha. After drinking and peeing out a cherry flavored slushy, Sam is the furthest thing from thirsty. He does it anyway, allowing the possibility that Dean is just taking precautions for later down the road when Sam is inevitably thirsty again. So Sam fills it to the brim with water, gets back in the car, and places it in the cup holder, planning to leave it there until he feels the need to take a drink. Dean, however, has other plans.

“I want you,” he says and pulls the Big Gulp cup from the cup holder for emphasis, “to drink this whole thing before we get to Waterloo.”

Sam’s eyes widen and warmth spreads from his neck to his cheeks as he realizes what’s happening. It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order and if Sam doesn’t comply then he’ll go to bed with blue balls tonight. Not that Sam isn’t eager to follow the order. They’ve only dabbled in this kink, and it was definitely Dean’s idea first. But Sam’s always been right behind Dean on most things and this is no different.

He takes the proffered cup and begins to sip the water, going slowly because Waterloo is still twenty five minutes away. It’s not exactly a hard thing to do, but it takes a modicum of concentration. Sam paces himself because he doesn’t want to get sick with it. Chances are if all he can do when they get to Waterloo is throw up a bunch of water, then the mood will be ruined. Plus, he has to digest it, can’t just let it sit there in his stomach. Because of this, he takes his time and drinks the water in a methodical way that’s a little unprecedented for such a simple task.

By the time Waterloo is only ten minutes way, Sam’s finished more than half the cup. He has to break when his stomach protests and takes five minutes, waiting for the ache to disappear. Once it does, he chugs the rest and by the time they pull up to a motel in Waterloo, Sam has finished the water and can already feel the first stirrings in his bladder from it.

“Good boy,” Dean commends, checking the cup. Sam smiles softly at the praise. They both get out of the car to unload the trunk. In the motel, they go about business as usual. Sam breaks his laptop out to search for a hunt. Nebraska and a lot of the other Midwestern states are always crawling with ghosts and vengeful spirits so he likes their chances of finding something to do while they’re here.

Ten minutes into his research, though, the pressure in his bladder has become rather insistent. It’s not an ache yet, not that cloying need that he’s anticipating. But it’s enough to make him squirm and Dean notices.

“Gotta use the bathroom, Sammy?” Dean asks, like it’s an option. It’s not, though. Even if he said yes, Dean would tie him to the bed before letting him anywhere near a toilet.

“No,” he answers and shifts a little more before focusing on his laptop and clicking on a new link, continuing his reading.

The line between wanting to pee and needing to pee is very fine and almost indiscernible. Mostly because, for the average person, any bladder pressure is usually described as “needing to pee.” It’s fairly strange for someone to say “I want to pee.” But there’s a line between feeling like you should pee to relieve the pressure and absolutely needing to no matter what. The only thing is that crossing that line happens almost instantaneously and it catches Sam off guard every time.

Suddenly the pressure in his bladder becomes distracting, levers its way up from noticeable to painful. Before he really realizes it, he’s clenching, holding it back for all he’s worth. He’s breaking out into a cold sweat because the pressure is becoming very real and very insistent and it reminds him of all those times that he made Dad pull over to the side of the road when he’d been sitting in the back, practically crying with how badly his bladder ached.

The ache is coming now, he can feel it. His laptop is beginning to feel too warm and sweat is forming on his neck. Dean’s staring at him now too, has looked away from where he was watching day time soap operas on the motel TV. He turns the TV off and watches Sam instead.

“What about now, Sam?” He asks, standing up from the bed. “You need to use the restroom?”

Sam shakes his head and bites his lip. He closes his laptop and puts in on the table. Dean stands in front of him and Sam can see that the other man is hard in his jeans. It would be arousing if not for the desperate feeling in his bladder. The longer he waits, the worse it gets, the need ratcheting up a few notches every second that passes by.

“Good,” Dean praises. “Then how about we play? Why don’t you strip for me, Sammy? I’ll sit on the bed. You give me a show.”

“Okay,” Sam agrees, voice strained.

The younger man is pretty sure that if he stands up, he’ll let loose and pee all over himself. However, he isn’t about to disobey Dean. Slowly, he stands up, and miraculously he’s able to hold back. Focusing solely on getting his clothes off, he tries to ignore the feeling in his lower stomach. It’s not much of a show, he’s afraid, as he stumbles out of his clothes, shaky and sweaty from the way he’s clenching.

Relief briefly takes him once he’s naked. He got all his clothes off without even a dribble of pee escaping him. Dean ushers him forward to stand at the end of the bed. He does so, walking awkwardly as he tries to keep his knees together. Feels as if he stands with his legs apart then it will be all be over.

Dean strips his own clothes off and lays back on the bed, propping himself up against the headboard. He looks beautiful like that, naked and completely Sam’s. Normally, the sight would make the younger man hard in an instant. But there’s no chance of him getting aroused with the pain in his lower stomach. Still, he ogles the sight and waits for Dean to move things along.

“Come straddle me, baby,” Dean says. Sam nods, leans forward and gasps at the way it pushes on his bladder. He hisses and barely manages to crawl forward. Stretching his legs open to straddle Dean is another test and he doesn’t know if he’s ever been so aware of every single one of his own movements before.

Once he’s straddling Dean’s bare waste, it all feels a little more manageable. Perhaps he’s growing numb to the feeling. That is, until Dean reaches up and presses his hand into Sam’s pelvis. Sam gasps and clenches hard. Dean grins.

“If you pee even a little before I give you the okay, you won’t get to come tonight.”

“O-okay,” Sam stammers.

And Sam may not be hard now but he can only imagine how this night is going to go, so he clamps down on his need as hard as he can. Dean presses his hand back into Sam’s pelvis and it’s a god given miracle that the younger man doesn’t let anything loose. It’s only by sheer force of will that he’s managing it and he feels like he’s running a marathon for the herculean effort that it takes.

Dean does it a few more times, staring at Sam’s face. Sam can feel the tears forming at the corner of his eyes, completely involuntary, but a direct reaction to the feeling in his bladder. When the tears begin to fall, he bites his lip and his face gets red. And he reminds himself how good it’s going to feel, how hot it’s going to be when Dean finally says—

“Okay.”

Sam nearly sobs with gratitude. He relaxes completely, unclenches, stops trying to hold back. It feels so good, almost better than an orgasm, a rush that makes Sam’s skin break out into gooseflesh. The relief is like nothing else Sam’s known. He’s felt all kinds of relief but nothing that’s so basically pleasurable, so raw and naturally good. If the lead up to it wasn’t so painful, he’d do this every day just to feel the pleasure of finally giving up.

The stream of piss he lets loose is nearly clear and it comes out hard and fast all over Dean’s chest and abdomen. The older man even dips his head down to get some on his face. He stares at Sam’s dick as every last drop of urine spills onto his skin. Running his fingers through the slowly weakening stream, he brings the wet hand up and holds it to Sam’s mouth.

Sam, still pissing, takes the fingers into his mouth and licks the flavor up. There’s not much there in taste beyond water but there’s a saltiness, a bitterness that’s his own flavor and that’s so disturbingly hot that when the stream of his piss finally dribbles and stops, he gets hard almost instantly. Arousal replaces the relief and he stares down at Dean with hungry eyes.

“So fuckin’ hot, Sammy,” Dean says and Sam can feel his brother’s erection sliding between his but cheeks. “Grab the lube.”

Sam hurries to do so, leaning over the side of the bed and digging it out of Dean’s jeans. When he has it, Dean grabs it and pops it open, coating his fingers in it and then dipping those same fingers in the puddle of Sam’s piss that had accumulated in the hollow of his neck. Then he takes his piss-lube covered fingers and reaches around Sam, bringing them down to slip between Sam’s butt cheeks. He teases for minute, makes Sam whine and then plunges them both inside abruptly. Sam yelps.

“Jesus Dean,” he says and it comes out almost scolding but he can’t manage any actual ire as Dean begins to brutally finger fuck him. The older hunter goes too quickly.

“Can’t fuckin’ wait Sammy,” Dean gasps. “God it was so hot watchin’ you squirm, knowin’ you had to go so bad. And fuck Sam, want you to piss on me every day like that. Looks so good, feels so good. Just… so fucking good, Sam, I swear.”

Sam’s not quite ready for the third finger that Dean gets in him but he’s so hard up for it too, propelled forward even more by Dean’s words. So even though it burns, he lets Dean move a little too fast, practically revels in the pain. Three fingers abruptly become Dean’s cock, nudging at his entrance. The mere thought of Dean’s cock being lubed up by Sam’s piss (and the store bought stuff, but that aside) is too fucking much and Sam slams his hips down, screams at the burn but then moans at the feeling of fullness as he takes Dean’s hard, throbbing dick all at once.

Dean curses.

“Holy shit, Sam,” he yelps, voice shot with desire.

It’s brutal, the way they fuck. Sam’s still riding the high of relief from peeing and Dean’s probably been hard since Sam bought that damn slushy. Neither of them can contain the way they express their arousal almost violently.

It hurts, Sam realizes as he drives himself down onto his brother’s cock. The burn of the stretch is more intense than it usually is so it hurts but he doesn’t care. Dean’s moaning and groaning and gripping Sam’s hips hard. The air is sour with the smell of piss and sweat and Sam can still remember with absolute clarity how good it felt to finally let go.

He angles his hips and finds his prostate and proceeds to fuck himself on Dean’s cock even harder. He keeps the angle, nails his spot every time and ignores the pain as he goes, lets the pleasure drown it out as he moves his hips at a punishing pace.

“Dean,” he whines and plants his hands on his brothers piss-sticky chest. Starts to moves his hips in these quick, brutal grinds that have him hitting his prostate with every slight movement and it’s nearly overwhelming, how awesome it feels. A few more thrusts like that and he’s done fore, seizing up and coming in long thick spurts all over Dean’s chest, making it even more sticky with his come. He lets out a pitiful sound of pleasure as he works himself through his orgasm.

Then some wild, crazed part of him causes him lean down and lick the come up. Dean’s answering groan makes his chest vibrate and his hips stutter as he spills into his little brother, gasping Sam’s name.

Sam licks and licks Dean’s chest until all the come is gone; it’s saltier, bitterer than his piss and he can’t discern one taste from the other. When he’s done, Dean pulls him down for a hard kiss, one where their teeth knock together and they make each other’s mouths messy with saliva.

“Gonna make you drink a whole gallon of water next time,” Dean promises.

Sam hums and collapses onto Dean, letting their disgusting, sticky chests rub together. He can definitely get on board with that idea. 

**Author's Note:**

> More writing at veganweecest.tumblr.com


End file.
